Nothing I Can Do
by glitterscarves
Summary: Harry disgusts himself with his longing for Snape but realises he's nothing without the man. SS/HP.


**I'm unsure about this, incredibly worried you won't like it so I really hope you do.**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter or any of the associated charaters or locations. Sadly.**

* * *

**Nothing I Can Do**

Everything about him is disgusting.

From his greasy hair to his yellow, ancient teeth. From his smothering black robes to his hooked nose and sallow skin.

He was nothing pretty to look at but I could never control the intense longing in my chest to stare at him all the time, every time the opportuinity presented itself.

My whole mind consumed by his face, his features blurred and distorted until they present something attractive…something warm.

But they were not distorted.

His face remained the same but my eyesight was warped and inverted until everything filthy and wrong was suddenly beautiful.

I would listen intently to every conversation damning him, throwing in my own prejudices to swim among the others.

They were telling the truth but I lied.

Lied as his cruel ways enchanted me; his biased behaviour ignited a fire in me…

He was everything wrong for me. He was male, old, my father's hated class mate, a Death Eater…

The height of his unworthiness made him worth it. Every inch of him that was wrong for me, morphed him to make him the perfect fit.

I would not be what everyone expected. I would be his in the darkness.

The Griffyndor Prince lay spread-eagle on Severus Snape's midnight black sheets like a cheap whore night after night and loved it.

He would devour me, swallow my body completely into him and spit me back out, covered in his sin. Reeking of it but so intoxicated I could burst.

Nothing else could inspire me, no one could motivate me like he could.

One drop of his sarcasm, one scathing comment and I was determined to surprise him, delight him, make him proud.

Prove myself to the only remaining soul who doubted me. I would conquer Voldemort, astounding him. I would free him from these suffocating shackles and he could be mine. No more masters…I would own him but not exploit him. I would adore him, worship him.

I wanted to be his as much as I wanted him to be mine.

We would master one another, I could control his viciousness and he could dictate my need to save everyone. He could be the antidote to my insufferable urge to be the hero.

But I don't love him. It is nothing as frivolous as that.

I need him.

He is my air as without him the world becomes a howling stretch of white noise.

This is one of the most dangerous situations to be in. He holds my heart in his long, delicate hands and he's closing them over, his fingers applying pressure as he laughs while I squirm.

The smile on his face horrific and poisonous but oh so heated.

One suffocating glance from those obsidian orbs and I shatter. My insides melted into an insubstantial jelly of longing. My mouth dry and thirsting for him and his unspoken charms.

He would only ever call me my given name when he came, his essence covering my insides as he groaned my name, his tongue dripping honey over the syllables as he panted. His hot breathe flushing my face.

"Shouldn't you be going Potter," he would drawl into the dark.

I never replied but left when his hold dwindled enough for me to brave the outside world.

When his arms were around me, his mouth around mine, his papery skin at my fingertips…the world dissolved into our bond. Voldemort did not matter, Ron and Hermione were worthless formations of letters.

He was my existence, my lifeblood.

He owned me, my soul his in a cage.

I'm not pathetic by nature but I know no other way to express the depths of my submission. I am not as educated, not as sophisticated as him. His ability to bewitch language into doing his dirty work was both fascinating and terrifying. One whisper into the black and I was doing things I did not understand just to satisfy him. Make him understand.

But he didn't.

My longing was lust to him and his to claim.

He would justify his actions by telling himself he was simply satisfying a need in the both of us, releasing my tension. It could only make me a better fighter…

It did but only because of my determination to shield him. He would survive this so he could save me again as without him I was destined to destruction.

I could not live with hero worship. I needed his injections of sarcasm, the way he neutralised every heroic act with a dissatisfied smirk.

He would hold my face in his hands, his veins protruding from his skin as his body had not cooled from our earlier exertions. His black holes would stare into my eyes, swallowing them whole as he spoke. He would tell me what we did was wrong, no one should know. He would lose his job and although he hated it where else would he go. He would plead with me. His weakness broke me.

"I would never tell on you. Must we go through this every week…"

He would not reply, his grip lessening as his eyes softened.

"What do you come down here for Potter?"

"For you."

He would sigh. Clearly expressing he did not believe me and I guess it was a lie. I never went down there for him. I needed to sate myself with his horrible body to prevent an over boiling of desire.

Hermione and Ron noticed a change in me but they did not want to question it and wrote it off as the pressure squashing me from every side as people desperately pinned their hopes to me.

I was glad as I could no longer fake my happiness to satisfy other people.

I would not be their weapon.

I would end this terrible war for me and for him. So there would be a him, and me so I could be with Severus Snape.

It got too difficult to even spend a day away from him; his addictive poison the only thing my mind could process. I needed him crazily.

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My world was shifted on its side when Hogwarts was attacked and we were forced to flee.

In the middle of the night, children of unknown members of the Order piled into Grimmauld Place, all of them bleary eyed and shaking.

Hermione, Ron and I felt like veterans, our skins hardened to the idea of being faced with evil, but while they used their experience to calm and comfort the frightened children, I darted about the house just searching.

As they always seemed to do these days, they left me to my frantic rushings without much concern as with their innocent minds they convinced themselves I was fine.

He was not here.

I felt weak for being so desperate for his presence, for longing for the sharpness of his tongue to prove to me that everything was the same.

But I knew that the delicate tendrils of our relationship were being slashed before my eyes, never could we secretly conduct my favourite sins under this roof. The home of my adoptive parents, the ancestors of my beloved godfather.

Defeated, I sat at the kitchen table. A mug of tepid tea clutched in my white knuckles as I thought about nothing and everything in the same second. The continuous stream of new faces were absorbed into the background and to them I appeared to be a part of the furniture.

I felt hollow.

Normally I would be the light of the circle, the shining hope but they could almost sense, the way animals can taste fear, that I had little left in me.

I needed him now but he was somewhere unknown, so far out of reach.

Closing my eyes, I would examine the rare moments of openness he displayed to me while trying to remember the feel of his skin, the taste of his lips…

Someone sat in front of me.

It was Remus.

He was more dishevelled than normal, his rapidly greying hair was erratic and his amber eyes were dull. More than anything, he looked drained and frightened. His fear concerned me.

Normally he would accept the role of the calm and rational one, he was the person you could turn to when everything was falling apart. Remus always had an answer but right now he looked as though he had nothing left to offer.

"Harry I need to ask you a question."

I nod, my eyes locking onto his. The fear increases; I can almost smell the sweat uneasily trailing down his back.

"Snape, what is he to you?"

I cough. This was the last thing I ever expected from him although I cannot lie and claim guessing was beyond his capabilities. The heightened senses that accompanies his curse allows him to become more perceptive than the average human being.

Lying seems almost impossible, not to those eyes.

"I care for him…"

"How deeply?"

"Very," I whisper.

His eyes divert from mine, they instead refocus themselves on the wooden fruit bowl on the middle of the table. Nervously, his fingers crack and twist over each other and his foot is tapping a quiet, unsteady rhythm.

Suddenly he stands and pours himself a glass of water, he gulps it down hurriedly. The bob of his adam's apple enchants me but does not distract me from his darting eyes nor the reluctance in his features.

"Why?"

"There was a special reason for the attack on Hogwarts…"

There was an obvious reason why we did not know…

"Severus had no idea…they realised he was traitor…"

Everything stops.

Time. My lungs. The noise surrounding me.

My head throbs intensely and my throat dries. I can see nothing but visions of his face, angry, happy, during sex…every second of our interactions.

I try to imagine a life without him but it seems impossible…All my efforts, trying to save the world. What was the world without him? What was I without him?

My lip is bleeding and I wonder why, then quickly realise it's due to my teeth burying through the skin but I am numb to pain.

Pulling back my arm, I slam my fist down on the table.

Nothing.

I stand up and continue throw my fists at everything, the destruction is a release but not a comfort.

The pain still does not come.

I forget about Remus, about all the other faces in the house.

Nothing but Severus…

His face on every surface I touch…

"Harry calm."

His warm hands on me but it's not the one I want, the one I need…

"I'm sorry but there is nothing you can do…"

And Remus is right…

Now, there is nothing I can do.

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**Review please. I would love to know if this is any good. Thank you for reading.**


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